When You Leave Me
by AFandomofmanyFaces
Summary: This is a 2-chapter fic of what I imagine happened right before and during "Michael in the Bathroom."
1. The Realization

***I have never seen the actual musical, I'm just an obsessed fan of the OBCR while I'm waiting for the book to come to my library through MelCat, so I hope that the reader will understand if details that are canon are wrong. If this is so, please tell me in the comments, and I will edit my story when I can. This is starting out as a one-shot, but if I get inspired, I might expand on it. I hope the reader likes it, and I look forward to sharing my first Be More Chill fanfiction.**

 **As always, I do not own the characters, songs, or plot of BMC. Those belong to the amazing Joe Iconis and Ned Vizzini.***

Rich was fuckin' crazy. Now, I'm not one to say someone is crazy. I look at my life and realize that I have zero room to talk. Okay, I'm not crazy, but I'm not dumb enough to say I'm not weird. People look at me and their prolonged stares tell me that I leave something to be desired in society's standards in order to be considered "popular" or even "normal," but I don't care. I had everything I needed in Jeremy. He's the only person I really care about in that whole school, and I'm apparently his favorite person in the world.

At least I was. We used to hang out every day after school. After his parents divorced, he would sleep over pretty much every night. It was fucking awesome. We'd play Nintendo: Zombies and talk about Christine and my girlfriend Nicole all the time. We played D&D online and somehow Jeremy always ended up dying within three game days. I tried coaching him, but he always seemed to prefer to lie on the couch with his head on my lap listening to me narrate the rest of the game rather than actually play. Part of me wonders if he died on purpose, but he always denied that fact. I couldn't argue with that smirk on his face.

When Nicole eventually broke up with me, I let myself go. And when I say, "let myself go," I mean even more than normal. I didn't leave my room for a week. I didn't do anything. I couldn't even bring myself to play video games. Throughout that entire week, Jeremy would bring me my homework. He even convinced the teacher to photocopy the notes from that day's lecture so I would know what we covered that day. He was the one who convinced me that wallowing in self-pity is what Nicole would want. I'm pretty sure Nicole didn't really think about what I was doing; she was too busy having sex with Jason Flip. But I could tell Jeremy was really lonely, so I got myself up and forced myself to go to school. Eventually, I got over Nicole and we made it to level 9 of Nintendo: Zombies. It took us five weeks. Don't judge, it's a hard game! It would've taken twice as long without Jeremy, though.

Now, I don't know where I stand with him. He took that SQUIP, and ever since then he hasn't acknowledged me at all, except for that one day at school he accused me of avoiding him. I didn't even know how to react, so I just gave him the benefit of the doubt. He had just taken drugs; I know I get fucked up when I – yeah, I'm not going to put that on paper. But it's been three weeks, and he hasn't even made eye contact with me. I mean, he looks in my direction, but it looks like he is just staring right through me. Like I'm not even there. And then he starts talking to Rich. It's like they're intellectually connected or something now. I'm not letting it get to my head; he needs more than one friend. As long as I'm still his favorite person, he can hang with whomever he wants. It's America. It's a free country! God, I need to stop being so jealous; we're still friends!

I think.

What's with the doubts, Michael? Of course, you're friends. You just need to give him space. That's it.

Anyways, back to Rich.

Rich was fuckin' crazy. He seemed to be having fun at the party. He was swinging his arms around in this weird-ass dance move, jerking his head and kicking over any houseplant he could find. Thankfully, Jake's parents were kind of germophobes, so none of the plants were real, and he didn't really make a mess. It was kind of funny to watch, actually, until he began to scream and curse in a decibel that human ears should not be able to hear –

"FUCK YOU, JAKE. I NEED MOUNTAIN DEW REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!"

Now, ever since Jeremy had told me about the SQUIP and how he wanted one, I've been searching the Internet for any scrap of information I could find about this computer drug from Japan. It turns out Rich was exaggerating when he said that it's top secret. A Google search allowed me to find it, but it was on page 35, so I can see why not many people would know about it. Turns out it takes green Mountain Dew to activate it.

Think back…think back…Fuck. We had Taco Bell in the mall cafeteria the afternoon he ditched me at the mall. Okay, that makes sense.

It also turns out that Mountain Dew Red is what deactivates the SQUIP. I found that weird. That's been discontinued for like ten years, but then again, I don't know many people who use SQUIPS, so maybe it was discontinued because nobody uses the computer, and really it just tastes like shit. It sounds fucking disgusting.

Rich wants Mountain Dew Red. How would he know about Mountain Dew Red? He's too "cool" to care about discontinued soda pops from the 90s, unless…unless…oh shit.

I leap off the stool I had been sitting on in the corner of Jake's living room. I had to find Jeremy.

"Jeremy!" I shout. "Jeremy!" People began staring at me, but I didn't care. I had to find my best friend.

I saw him start going up the stairs to the second floor with Chloe.

"JEREMY, S-STOP!" He turned and looked at me. He actually looked at _me_. I couldn't let him get away. I started running towards him, stumbling over pillows and solo cups that littered the floor. I looked up to make sure Jeremy was still there, and I swear I saw pity in his eyes.

"Jer – Jeremy…" I paused, trying to catch my breath.

"Michael? What is it?" He whispered, his voice sounding urgent, like he couldn't wait to start ignoring me again. I could sense eyes staring at us, not the least of which were Chloe's, who was standing right behind Jeremy on the stairs. I knew that look on her face. She wanted to go places with Jeremy, and I don't mean just the bedroom. I wasn't completely sure what that supercomputer in his brain was capable of, but I know that normal Jeremy wouldn't have sex with Chloe. His obsession since seventh grade was Christine Canigula. I don't think he'd give that up for a girl like Chloe.

"Hey, um—Jeremy, can we, uh, talk, you know, somewhere a little more private?"

Jeremy looked at Chloe nervously. "Hey, can you—" He paused for a second, then his jaw tightened and he continued, "Hey, go wait for me." He was very direct; I may not like the fact that Jeremy doesn't talk to me anymore, but he definitely has the "cool dude" suave down.

Jeremy came up to me and leaned on the railing. My breath caught a little in my throat. I could feel his breath on my face. It smelled like beer, but I didn't care. He was looking at my face, staring in my eyes, wanting to talk to me. Maybe we didn't have to be the way we were for the past few weeks. Maybe tonight can be the beginning of something new. I'm sure it will, especially once he hears the news I have for him.

"Michael, I don't have time for games. What do you want?" I was pulled out of it by Jeremy's harsh voice. I didn't have his attention for very long, and I needed to tell him about Rich before I disappeared from him again for who knows how long.

"Have you seen Rich?"

"Oh, I saw Rich. What about him?" Jeremy started tapping his fingers on the banister. I needed to hurry.

"He's going crazy, Jeremy. He's obviously SQUIPPED and he is searching for a way to deactivate the computer!"

Jeremy eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, he's "obviously" SQUIPPED? What makes you think Rick has a SQUIP?" He was super defensive and I was taken aback.

"I – I just heard him screaming—"

"I think, oh, I don't know, I think you're just _jealous_ of the fact that I have friends that aren't you. Huh?" He must've seen my eyes pop out of my head at his accusation, cause he continued, "You're just upset that I have a girlfriend that is way hotter than yours ever was, that I can get invited to shit like this, but you have to be drug along, by _me_."

"Well, I don't think—"

"No, Michael, you don't think. You seem to think I still want to hang out with you. Well you're wrong. I don't want to hang out with you. I don't want to hang out with you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to even be seen with you. God, you are such a loser, Michael," He paused. I was speechless.

"Stop following me. Stop trying to get my attention. Do you understand?"

Goodbye, Michael."

I barely felt my head bob a nod.

He looked at me, and his eyes glazed over, and I knew I had lost him.

I understood, but I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye.


	2. One Player Game

**Hey guys, so I realized that this is going to be a lot longer than I thought, so it's going to be around 3-4 chapters instead of two. Hope the breaks don't make the flow awkward. Reviews are appreciated, and I hope you enjoy it. If you have any story ideas you wanna see, let me know!**

I sat on the couch, tapping my foot on the floor. The carpet felt weird on my socks. It was almost a felt, and I couldn't understand why rich people didn't get normal things. It would've been nicer on my feet, if not more economical. God, I needed to get high.

I couldn't hear much, because Jake had a boom box blasting music in the living room. Girls were laughing; jock guys were making moves on the cheerleaders who obviously wanted nothing more than to get laid. A girl who looked like Kirsten Dunst when she was a stupid blonde climbed over my lap. Before I could react, she was on my right side, sitting up and offering me the rest of her beer. The cup was pretty much full, and I downed it in about two minutes. My insides warmed up a bit. Damn, that felt good. It had been a while since I had had a beer, but it had also been a while since I had had needed a reason to forget about what was happening in my life.

"Where did you get this?" I mouthed at the Kirsten impersonator, pointing at the cup, and she pointed into the kitchen. I maze my way through the bodies, trying to avoid anybody who had happened to pass out and lay in the walkway. I made it to the kitchen, and I found pitchers with the beer sitting in coolers, and I didn't waste my time filling my cup up again. I start chugging, ignoring the horrible taste that reminded me vaguely of my basement.

"You like that?" A kid I had never even seen before chuckled as he grabbed the pitcher from the counter I had set it on. I stepped to the side so it wouldn't look like I was intruding on his space. He filled his cup, and looked like he wanted to say something, but then chose to remain silent. He gave me one silent look, and turned the other way. I looked into my cup and saw that it was only half empty. I started downing it again as I walked through the other door in the kitchen into a hallway that led to the other side of the stairs. As I neared the end of it, I saw Jeremy come down the stairs. I gripped my cup a little harder. I didn't know what to do; he had made it clear that he didn't want to talk to me anymore. But we had been hanging out since we were five. I couldn't just erase twelve years of history because he said to not talk to him once. I loved him and respected him too much as a friend to allow our friendship to end because of a stupid pill and regrettable words.

"Jeremy!" I could start to feel the beers a little bit, considering the fact I hadn't eaten much at lunch today, and I skipped dinner with my parents to go to this party with Jeremy. I was a bit of a lightweight anyway.

"Jeremy!" I began to run down the hallway to the end of the stairs.

Jeremy wiped his cheek. "Dude—"

I didn't let him finish. Gripping his arm, I pulled him in close, whispering next to his ear, "Mountain Dew Red. You. Need. Mountain. Dew. Red." I looked at him, but he didn't respond at all. "NOW!" I shook him and his gaze locked onto mine. But his reaction surprised me.

He held my forearms, one in each hand, and pulled in closer to himself. My breath checked, and I didn't know what was going on. He squeezed my right arm, while cupping my chin in his left hand and put his face inches from mine.

"Michael?"

"Y-yes?" My breath barely made it through my vocal chords as I choked out my answer, waiting for him to tell me whatever he had to say.

"This is a one player game now. Find a new team."

He let go of his embrace and pushed past me, heading for the kitchen. I could hear Rich screaming at Jake for not letting him have another drink. A drunk girl turned on the karaoke machine, starting to badly belt "Don't Stop Believin'." There were too many conversations going on around me, and I couldn't hear the voices in my mind screaming at me for being so idiotic as to lose the one friend I could ever hope to keep.


	3. Michael in the Bathroom

CHAPTER 3

Behind me, the bathroom door opened, and a girl stumbled out of it with another cheerleader's arms wrapped around her neck. I duck in as they exit, and I can feel the room enclosing around me. Someone tried to come in after me, but fortunately I had locked the door.

I heard the door handle jangle. Spying a tampon on the counter, panicking, I said the first thing I could think of.

"I'm on my period!"

Silence. I couldn't tell if there was a snicker because of the loudness of the music, but I heard Chloe tell me to take my time.

I didn't know whether to be offended by the fact she accepted that excuse so willingly, but I was grateful all the same. I sank down and sat on the side of the tub, placing my head in my hands, trying not to let my vertigo get to me.

What the hell was tonight? I came to this party thinking Jeremy wanted to try to be a better friend, to spend time with me again. It's only 10 p.m., and he had ditched me for new friends. Rich was the new Michael. Rich and Jake. Rich, Jake, and Brooke. And maybe Chloe, now, since I have no clue what he was doing upstairs. The floor was spinning and I just couldn't register the fact that my friend wouldn't listen to me when all I wanted to do was help him.

But he's…not…my friend anymore. According to him. I had lost my player 1, and player 2 can't play on alone without the first controller. Obviously. I'm example A of this illustration.

I'm hanging in a bathroom at the biggest party of the fall. I could stay right here, or disappear, and nobody'd even notice at all.

I could see my reflection in the mirror out of my right periphery. My "CREEPS" sweater was bunching in weird places that nobody really pointed out, but I suppose it's a good thing nobody made fun of it, either. I had been planning to be a Creeper for Halloween since last year, when the game had become really popular, but fads come and go, and unfortunately, Minecraft was one of those fads that just didn't stick around at our school. But I'm not one to do something just because others say to, so I stuck with my original costume idea even though it wasn't popular anymore.

I'm a Creeper in the bathroom. Nice. That's hot.

I'm a Creeper in a bathroom; cause my buddy kind of left me alone. I mean I'd rather fake pee than stand awkwardly or pretend to check a text on my phone.

 _Bzzzzzz._

What the hell.

 _Bzzzzzz._

My phone was vibrating in my pocket, and I couldn't think of who could possibly want to talk to me at this hour of night.

They were texts. From my mom. God.

 _ **Michael, are you spending the night Jerry's?**_

then

 _ **If you are, please swing by here first so that you can give him that birthday present we got his dad.**_

I couldn't keep the tear from falling onto my phone screen. How pitiful was this? The only person who wants to talk to me is my mother, and she just assumes I'm hanging with Jeremy. Why wouldn't she? Jeremy is – was - my whole life. That wasn't supposed to change anytime soon. Everything felt fine, when I was half of a pair. But for no fault of mine, there's no other half there.

I tried to catch my breath. Tears were pooling up in my eyes, but I couldn't let myself cry. It had been years since I had cried. I wasn't about to do it over some boy. No. I'm Michael, but now my identity isn't Jeremy. Now I'm Michael, _in the bathroom._ Michael, in the bathroom, at a party! Hah! How sad is that! I can't even sit on a couch with those fake fuckers anymore. The coldness of the tub seeped through my pants and it felt good. It was pretty calming, actually.

What was the time? I looked around for a clock, but I couldn't find one. The family must've forgotten that people need to know how long their shits are. I have no clue how long I've been sitting on this tub.

"Can I come in?" A girl asks urgently as she slams her fist on the door. She sounds like she is probably about to piss herself. I can't handle the idea of walking out of this bathroom alone, though. When I leave, it'll signify the end of the friendship between Jeremy and I, and I wasn't quite ready for that yet.

"No! You can't come in!" It's locked; do you think that says, "Come in"? God, some people are so stupid.

I won't be out anytime soon. I'm going to stay in here until it's time to leave. What time that is, I have no clue. I came here with Jeremy, but only zombies know if I'll go home with him now.

The shower grout was crumbling; I used my thumbnail to pull the clay out from between the tiles. I blink, trying to let the rest of the tears out of my eyes now that one was gone. They splashed down on my lap; I grabbed a fistful of my sleeve.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaaah!" I scream silently as I pulled on my sweater. I bang my arm against the wall so hard it hurts, but the pain dulls the pit that had been growing steadily in my stomach since I had entered the bathroom.

Kneeling down, I can tell that the girl has left because the shadow underneath the door is gone. I breathe out a sigh of relief; hopefully she can find another bathroom. I don't want to be rude, but I also don't want to give up the only safe spot in the whole house. I'm out a copilot, and I have to figure out how to fly this plane by myself. I've never had to do this before, and it's crushing my chest as though I'm out an oxygen mask as well.

I can hear Jeremy's laugh. It's weird how I've learned to tell his laugh from others. When we were younger, like 7 or 8, his laugh was high pitched, and warbled a bit before dropping almost an octave. When we reached puberty, it sounded like a seal barking. I made fun of him incessantly, but I liked it a lot. I never lost him in a crowd. He liked to laugh. His favorite joke was

"A man walked into a zoo, and there was only one dog. It was a Shitzu."

It made him laugh so hard he stopped breathing the first ten times he heard it. I found it on a cereal box, but I never told him that. I think he thinks I'm the smartest guy in the world.

Or he used to.

Now his laugh sounds like someone smoothed it over with a lint roller. There's no bumps, no hiccups. It just flows like a hot cup of coffee on a chilly winter morning; it's just what you need and energizes you for the day. But this time, he's not laughing at me.

No, I'm hiding, but he's out there, just ignoring all our history. Memories get erased, and I'll get replaced with a newer, cooler version of me.

The music hasn't changed much since I came into the bathroom. I lean against the wall, and I hear a drunk girl sing along to Whitney through the door—

"I wanna dance with somebody!"

Her belting is better than the last chick, but she is too wasted to really form the words well, and she promptly puked after that phrase. For Jake's parents' sake, I hope it was into a fake flowerpot.

I'm don't even try to stop the tears from falling down my face anymore. My sobs catch in my throat as I realize that the only thing I want to do is make fun of all these drunk people with Jeremy. But Jeremy is one of those drunk people now, which means there's no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore.

It's just me.

Michael in the bathroom at a party.

I stand up to leave, knowing someone is probably waiting on me.

Oh God. My stomach churns a bit, and I sit back down on the side of the tub, half regretting the beers.

I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve. It doesn't help. I can't fucking stop crying. Jeremy doesn't want to remember those summer nights riding our bikes down the street, chasing the ice cream truck cause we slept in too late and always came at 11 a.m. sharp and left twenty minutes later. He doesn't want to remember how many red bulls that were consumed in a 2 hour period, and how we almost puked from our increased heart rates, but we got those papers written. He doesn't want to remember _Apocalypse of the Damned_ , and the only reason we made it that far was because he was able to throw my character up onto a ledge, where I was able to crank a lever open a secret door for his character to go through and beat the level. I hadn't been able to beat that level by myself, no matter how hard I tried.

But he is choosing to forget those things.

Damn those people who need to pee. I'll take as long as I need, until my face is dry. Or, I'll just blame it on weed, or something in my eye. Hah! They'd have to be really blind to believe that one. If I was tearing up this much from something in my eye, I should be going to the hospital.

But they wouldn't notice, because I'm just Michael, who they don't know.

Michael, flying solo.

Michael in the bathroom by himself.

I stand up, steadying myself with my hand on the wall. I need to show Jeremy I'm ok. I place my hand on the handle.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

Shit.

They're gonna start to shout soon.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

Oh God. "Oh, hell yeah, I'll be out soon!" I lie. I start to panic. I can't go out right now. They're gonna ask my what took me so long. They're gonna want to know why I was crying. They're gonna make fun of me for crying. Just thinking about it made me tear up again.

I hear Jeremy's voice in the crowd.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

It sucks you left me here alone—

 _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

Here in this teenage battle zone—

 _Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang._

I don't know whether to leave or pretend I'm not here. I feel pressure form behind my eyes, and a headache is causing me to feel even more nauseous than I already was.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

Why did I ever think this was a good idea? My definition of a good time is getting stoned in my basement.

Alone.

My big mistake was showing up.

 _Splash. Splash. Splash. Splash._

I turn the faucet on, trying to cover up any traces of the tears that streaked my face. I go to open up the door, but I don't hear knocking anymore.

 _A few more seconds. I'll let myself have a few more seconds in this prison I made for myself._

I look up and see my face looking forlornly back at me. I can't help but yearn for a different time. But as I look in the mirror, the present is clearer, and there's no denying I'm—

But what am I? I lean back, forgetting there's not a wall behind me, and I stumble backwards into the tub. God, could this night get any worse? I lost the one person in this world who means anything to me, and I can't even fucking stand upright in the bathroom that I've been in for at least twenty minutes. They probably all think I have diarrhea or something. That's just the rumor I need Jenna spreading about me.

There couldn't be a much sadder sight than this. This is a heinous night.

What am I doing here? What am I doing anywhere? Jeremy obviously doesn't think I'm worth _shit_ and he's the only one who's ever been there for me. My stomach hurts, my back aches from falling into the tub, my heart feels like there's a hole where it used to be, and I wish I had stayed at home in bed, watching cable porn. That'd have been nice. Or you know what, maybe I should've offed myself instead; I wish I was never born! Jeremy would've been better off. He wouldn't have had me dragging him down for twelve years. He could have been friends with Rich and Jake so much sooner, and there wouldn't be all of this messy pain!

Instead of that happening, they just assume I'm a stoner, cause I stick to myself and make fun of me listening to my Bob Marley music and my lame ass PT Cruiser.

 _God, you're such a loser._

That's what he said to me. Well, that fucker doesn't even drive. Who is calling a loser? And all they know about me is my name. They don't have a right to make fun of me either.

My eyes are dry. They're red, but if I slip out fast enough, the other kids won't be able to tell I was crying.

I open the door tentatively, trying to gauge the crowd directly outside of the door. Thankfully, it seemed pretty clear. I leave, trying to remember where the front door is.

"Michael!"

I turn to see Jake holding up a cup. "Where are you going?" He was obviously drunk. This was the most he'd ever spoken to me.

"I'm a little tired. I think I'm gonna get going." I stick my thumb in the general direction of the parked cars, even though I know fully well I'm going to walk the ten blocks to my house.

"Huh, well see ya, bro!" Jake laughed before throwing back his head and taking a shot of something. Apparently, they had cracked open the liquor cabinet.

"Yeah," I croaked. I turned and saw Jeremy dancing to the karaoke with a drunk cheerleader. I don't know the song.

I turned back to Jake and smiled.

"Awesome party! I'm so glad I came."


End file.
